Forever Silenced
by Winged Quill
Summary: Umbridge catches Harry in the Ministry. Worried that he will 'spread Ministry secrets' she cuts his tongue out. Now mute, Harry must learn Sign Language and nonverbal spells, as well as dealing with being mute, all while trying to bring down Voldemort.
1. Voiceless

**A/N: Yes, another fic. I'm sorry, the plot bunnies are attacking me! I promise to update Not the Same, Never Again tommorow, and I'll probably update Kill You With a Kiss sometime this week so until then, amuse yourself with this! Also, if you're happy to finally have a fic set in Deathly Hallows, you can thank UnknownUnseenUnheard, he suggested that. Until then, I was going to set it in Order of the Phoenix. I'm glad I didn't, the plotline is sooo much better in Deathly Hallows. So, without furthur ado, sit back, and enjoy!**

_Forever Silenced_

_**Chapter One**_

Harry shut the door to Umbridge's office with a barely audible click and pulled off his invisibility cloak. The decoy was a success. Umbridge's lackeys would never know someone had inflitrated their Mistress's office. Nor, hopefuly, would the toad herself.

Harry pulled a drawer open, no locket. Hmm...maybe in the cabinet across the room. Just as he was turning, the door was flung open. It was so sudden he didn't even have time to put on his invisibility cloak. He spun around and his heart sank. Umbridge stood in the doorway, looking shocked that he had dared invade her precious office.

"Albert?" she asked, closing the door and unsheating her wand, her toad-like eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What are you doing here?"

Knowing he couldn't talk his way out of this one, Harry drew his wand and threw a Stunning Spell. Umbridge ducked, the spell narrowly missing her. She popped back up, looking livid.

"You're not Albert, are you?" she snarled, sending an Immobulus towards him. He dodged easily, she really was a pathetic dueler, and sent a Bombarda at the desk next in front of her, hoping to distract her. She was flung backwards, crashing against the far wall. She looked up, furious. Then she smirked.

"INTRUDER!" she yelled, and Harry froze, expecting Hit-Wizards to come running through the door. There was a split second where he thought he'd have to run for it. Then ropes came out of nowhere, wrapping around him tightly and sending him to the floor, bound head to toe.

Umbridge picked herself off the floor and stalked over to him. She grabbed him by the hair and hoisted him into a chair, before spelling even more ropes on him. Harry struggled against the bonds half-heartedly, knowing it was useless. Umbridge crossed over to a large cabinet, opened it, and pulled out a crystal flask with a shimmering silver liquid in it.

"Antidote to the Polyjuice Potion," she said triumphantly, striding back over to him and forcing his mouth open. "Let's find out who you really are, shall we?"

Harry tried to spit it out, then throw it up. But it was too late. He felt his fake features melting away like candle wax, leaving his real face behind. Umbridge looked surprised for a moment, then she started grinning. Though he'd admit it to no-one, in that moment, Harry was terrified. Her smile was sadistic, almost in-human, and he fully expected her to burn him at the stake, or start throwing knives across the room at him.

Or even worse, the Cruciatus Curse.

And sure enough...

"I never did get to make you scream, did I, Mr. Potter?" she asked with a girlish giggle. Harry braced himself, mentally yelling that she would not get the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

"Crucio!" she screamed, and all of his resistance crumbled immidiatley as a thousand knives pierced him. He was screaming his throat raw, thrashing back and forth as much as the binds would allow, beating his head against the chair in a vain hope that he would go unconcious.

The pain lifted and Harry gasped in air, still trembling.

Why was no one coming? Surely his screams would have alerted someone, anyone. If Voldemort himself came in, Harry would go with him gladly, he was sure Voldemort would want to finish him off right away. Anything was better than being trapped here with this sadistic monster.

"That hurt, didn't it?" she asked sweetly, drinking in his pain. "Get used to it. This office has a silencing spell on the door, no ones coming."

Terror gripped Harry. She could make him scream as loud as she wanted, and no one would hear, no one would save him.

"CRUCIO!" Someone had shoved him in a pool of acid with spikes at the bottom and lit him on fire, everything was wrapped in mist, he didn't know his own name, he just wanted death to come and take him. Anything but this.

Again, the pain left him. He looked up at Umbridge, terrified, a plea in his eyes.

_Please...don't do this to me...kill me if you must...but please...stop torturing me..._ He would never say the words aloud, but both knew he was thinking them.

She grinned maliciously, raising her wand. He tensed, screwing his eyes tight shut so he wouldn't see the scarlet beam of sheer agony rushing towards him.

"Cru-"

She stopped. Unbelieveably, she spared him. He tentatively opened one eye, then the other. Umbridge slowly lowered her wand, considering him.

"You, Mr. Potter," she murmured thoughtfully "have inflitrated the Ministry. Learned Ministry secrets. Can't have you spreading them to the world, now can I?"

She pulled something from her desk and Harry's heart almost stopped. He recognized it. Never seen it himself, but, in one of his, Ron, and Hermione's long and crazy conversations in Grimmauld Place, Umbridge had been brought up. Ron had mentioned the Blood Quill, and said that what Umbridge had done was foul, wrong, horrible, and a load of other things. Hermione had added in that yes, it was, but she could have done much, much worse.

She had then gone off on a spiel about various punishments for lying in the ancient times, several of which were quite painful-sounding, and had left the boys wondering if Hermione really did know too much. One of them had stood out to Harry in particular, the one that had sounded most painful of all.

The Tongue Tearer.

Which is what Umbridge had in her hand. And she looked more than ready to use it.

Umbridge stepped closer and closer to Harry as he struggled, more afraid then he had ever been in his entire life. He was not just thinking of the horrible agony this would bring, but also of the fact that, should Umbridge succeed, he would never speak again.

Ever.

"Scared?" she asked, bringing the needle-sharp pair of scissors slicing together, taunting him. He stared her down, hoping to at least make her squirm with guilt a bit. She merely laughed.

"Defiant, are we?" the pink-clothed sadist asked, inserting the device in between his lips and yanking on the clamps, forcing his jaw open.

He didn't answer, not that he could have anyway. His heart was pounding, and he knew the pain was coming in seconds. She giggled sweetly, and, with one final smirk, she brought the scissors together.

The pain was a thousand times worse than Harry ever could have imagined, like all the potency of the Cruciatus Curse was concentrated in his mouth. He was screaming in agony, horrible incoherent screams that were absorbed by the Silencing Charms. He was choking on his own blood, trying not to thrash around and make the pain worse, all the while hearing Umbridge's sadistic giggles.

It was over in seconds. Through a fog, Harry could see Umbridge removing the Tongue Tearer from his mouth, clamped firmly around his blood coated tongue. He whimpered, a small, choked sound. Umbridge smiled, reveling in his torment. She dropped the Tongue Tearer, and Harry's tongue, on her desk. She turned back, still smiling broadly, and unsheathed her wand.

"I am most curious to see how a lack of a tongue will affect your screams, Potter," she said, and before Harry even had time to brace himself, he was under the Cruciatus Curse again.

His screams were horrible, strangled cries that seemed to tell the world that he was voiceless. Mute. Easy to attack, unable to fight back due to his poor nonverbal casting. He was going to die here. In this pink room, covered with lace and flower petals. When he imagined dying, he had imagined going down with a fight, struck down by Voldemort.

Not like this. Never like this.

And then the door swung open. Had Umbridge's silencing spells failed, had someone broken through? He heard a gasp, heard the door slam, and someone yell out a spell. The agony left and he heard a thud as Umbridge hit the ground, stunned and bound in ropes. He was shocked for a moment, shocked that anyone in the Ministry would be on his side, and not immidiately join in on the torture. Shocked that, at last, the pain was over.

When he lifted his head to see who his savior was, he saw a short, blonde witch, looking at him in horror. Mafilda Hopkirk. Hermione's disguise.

"Merlin, Harry," she whispered, drawing her wand. Harry flinched slightly, before mentally shaking himself, this was _Hermione._ She wasn't going to hurt him.

She quickly cast a Diffindo, removing the binds, and helping him to his feet.

"What happened?"

Harry looked around for a sheet of parchment, a quill, anything he could use to communicate to Hermione what had happened.

"Harry?"

Harry glanced back at Hermione, took a shaky breath, then pointed at Umbridge's desk. He looked away, hearing her gasp as she saw the Tongue Tearer.

"Is that...oh Merlin..."

Harry nodded, still not looking at Hermione.

"I'll...go get Ron." She ran from the room, horror still etched on her face. Harry glanced over at Umbridge, and noticed something on her neck. Something shiny, gold, and glimmering. He reached out, taking the locket from around her neck. He stared at it for a moment.

The Horcrux.

This is what they had come here for.

What Harry had entered the office for.

What he had lost his voice for.

He put his head in his hands, tears flowing down his face. He would never speak. He was mute.

Forever.

* * *

Hermione was walking through the Ministry as fast as possible without drawing suspiscion to herself. She felt sick to her stomach and furious at Umbridge. She was also desprately trying to get the sound of Harry's strangled cries out of her head.

She was also furiously trying to remember if there was anyway to re-attach Harry's tongue. Probably not. The Toad would not have used something that could be undone. And that was the problem. What would they do if Harry couldn't be cured? He would never be able to talk again. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the sound of Harry's voice as he joked around with her and Ron, or gave a stirring speech in a DA meeting.

Much as Harry said he wanted to be an Auror, Hermione could always tell he would end up as a teacher. It was the way he spoke in the DA, passion lighting up his face. He was doing what he loved. Now he would never get the chance.

She, Ron, and Harry would have to learn Sign Language. As soon as they got back to Grimmauld Place, she'd buy a book on the subject. And she'd have to work with Harry on nonverbal casting. Until he mastered it, he'd have to stay in the house. He's be defenseless if a Death Eater caught him.

That was what Hermione did when anything big happened. Make plans, be logical. Put her own feelings aside. Though granted, she had never dealt with something to this degree. What was one supposed to do when their friend lost his tongue? Not just lost it, but had it ripped out of their mouth by a midevil torture device?

Still, she planned. She already had one for getting the three of them out of there. She just hoped it worked. The first order of buisness, find Ron.

"OW!"

Looks like she found him. Ran right into him, literally.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Cattermole," she said, helping him to his feet.

"That's quite alright," he said, playing the part of nothing more than a co-worker that barely spoke to her.

"Madame Umbridge wants to see the both of us in her office," said Hermione, putting her plan into action. "There's a Mudblood prisoner she needs escorted somewhere. Don't know why she picked us, but I'm not about to question her. Come on."

It hurt her to say Mudblood. But she had to stay in character. You know what they say about walls having ears. In this case it wouldn't hurt to take that saying literally.

"Do you think it's a trap?" he hissed as the two headed back. She shook her head, keeping her eyes fixed firmly forward.

He frowned, but didn't press the matter. They reached the room with hundreds of people printing out flyers. Hermione ignored their stares, walking right up to Umbridge's door, knocking, and pretending to hear a call of 'come in.' She entered, dragging Ron behind her, and quickly shut the door.

"Bloody hell," he gasped, taking in Umbridge, tied up on the floor and Harry, shaking and sobbing. He didn't even ask Hermione any questions before running over to Harry. "What _happened_ to you?"

"There's no time," hissed Hermione casting a quick glamor over Harry and transfiguring his clothes into rags.

"What are you doing?" asked Ron, still staring at Harry. Harry gave her a bewildered look, clearly wanting to ask the same question. He was still crying and, though she felt awful thinking it, it would help in the plan. Ron, unobservant as he was, didn't notice the Tongue Tearer sitting on Umbridge's desk. Nor did he seem to notice that Harry couldn't speak. Hermione was relieved, it'd be so much easier to get out of here if Ron didn't break down into a rant and/or start cursing Umbridge.

Much as she wanted to do so herself, there was no time.

"We're pretending Harry's a Muggleborn prisoner," she hissed, transfiguring some lace into chains, and shackeling Harry's hands together. "It's the only thing I can think of that'll work."

"Right," said Ron, grabbing a chain, leading Harry as if on a leash. Hermione grabbed the other.

"Follow my lead," she said. Before leaving the office, she bent down, grabbed Umbridge's wand, and snapped it in two.

"Enjoy your meaningless life, bitch," she hissed, kicking her in the head. Ron looked at her in awe, probably because she swore, before schooling his face into one of disgust. She did the same. It wasn't hard. She simply poured all of her hatred of the Toad into her face, before opening the door and hauling Harry out.

It was almost too easy. Harry played the part of the beaten-down prisoner well, though Hermione was worried that it wasn't just acting. It hurt her to treat Harry this way, hauling him along like a dog, kicking him, and spewing profanities and insults at him. But it was far, far better than being caught by the Ministry. Especially since she had seen what they were capable of. The evidence was right there in front of her, being pulled along by a chain, broken, mute, and hopeless.

If there was ever anything to shatter ones faith in humanity, it was this.

So many people were hauling along prisoners, they were hardly spared a second glance. Many people, who looked like they'd normally be sitting behind desks, were helping commit this heinous crime, this genocide.

Who knew where the Muggleborns were going? Some sort of Concentration Camp? It wouldn't surprise her. The parallels between this 'Muggleborn Registration Comission' and the Holocaust...it was uncanny.

"Same place as usual?" asked a guard, holding out a Portkey and looking at Harry in contempt.

"No. Diagon Alley. Madame Umbridge wants to show people what their fate will be if they shelter scum," Hermione snarled, clouting Harry over the head.

"No better then the Mudbloods themselves, if you ask me," the guard replied, handing her a different Portkey. "Best to make an example of them, yes?"

"I couldn't agree more," Hermione lied, taking the Portkey. Instantly, she felt a tug behind her navel, and they were gone.

The instant they landed in Diagon Alley, she turned on her foot and pulled the three of them into darkness. They landed on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place and dashed in. It seemed like the Death Eaters watching the place were on break. A piece of luck, for once.

As they walked into Grimmauld Place, Harry still chained up and miserable, Hermione worried about what the future would bring.

It seemed as if things had taken a turn for the worse.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, the Tongue Tearer is an actual device used in Midevil Times. I believe it was China, but I could be wrong. And yes, they aren't going to wander aimlessly in a tent in this fic, sorry if that's what you wanted. I figured that if I took Harry's voice, the least I could do is let them stay in the house.  
Review if you can. If you don't have time to review, favorite the story so I at least know you like it!  
Until next time!  
_-Winged Quill_**


	2. Returning Home

**A/N: I got a few reviews saying the last chapter was too gory...sorry! That'll be the last of torture to that caliber, I promise! And, so we're clear...**

"Talking."

_Thinking_

_"Writing/Signing"_

* * *

"Okay. So what happened?"

Ron stood in the hallway of Grimmauld Place, arms crossed, face set with a determined expression. He clearly wasn't moving till Harry and/or Hermione explained. Harry wanted nothing more than to go to bed and hide from it all. Hide from his muteness, hide from this new, awful reality. But he couldn't. He had to be strong, stronger than ever before. He had thought looking for Horcruxes in and of itself would be difficult. But now...

He didn't know what he was going to do. He had never felt so powerless, so _weak_, in his entire life. He couldn't even answer his best friend's question. Hermione had to do it for him.

"Umbridge...she...Merlin...I..."

Hermione put her head in her hands, and Harry knew she was trying to figure out a way to break the news to Ron. Briefly, he imagined himself in her place, trying to explain to Ron that Hermione would never speak again, and that their mission was about to get ten times harder.

"What? What did she do?"

"She...she cut-she cut-"

"She cut what? _What did she do to Harry?"_

"She-" Hermione seemed to be struggling to find the right words, before eventually deciding on just spitting it out. "She cut Harry's tongue out."

Silence.

Ron froze, a look of horror on his face. He looked like he was about to be sick. He stepped forward, putting his hands on Harry's shoulders.

"Harry?"

Harry couldn't even look at Ron. He kept his head down, his eyes closed. But slowly, he nodded.

"Merlin, I'm going to kill that bitch."

Harry kept his head down. Though he was seething with anger, and wanted to decapitate Umbridge and hang her head next to the house elves, Ron saying how mad he was wasn't really helping. He was stuck. Trapped, alone, and helpless. He was dressed in rags and chained up. His mouth was still hurting like hell, and he ached all over. He had to deal with being mute for the rest of his life. Really, at that moment, he just wanted to sit down on the couch and bawl like a baby. But Ron was still holding his shoulders, and Harry really didn't have the strength to struggle away.

Harry felt a hand under his chin, lifting his head so he was eye-to-eye with Ron. He seemed to realize that what he said didn't help, and quickly tried to comfort his friend.

"We'll help you Harry. Merlin knows Hermione will be scouring bookstores looking for the perfect book on sign language. And we'll all be practicing non-verbal casting. And Harry..." a fire creeps into his eyes. "Umbridge...she'll pay. I promise you that. I won't rest until that foul toad is in Azkaban, or Kissed. And I know Hermione won't either."

Hermione had once said that Ron had the emotional range of a teaspoon. Still, thought Harry, as he was sandwhiched in a hug between his two best friends, he had those moments when he knew just what to say.

Minutes passed and the three just stood there, crying on each other shoulders. Harry closed his eyes, and for that moment, he pretended that everything was normal, that, when he opened his eyes, he'd be able to talk, cast spells, or even _eat_, like a normal person. But this wasn't a nightmare, and pinching himself wouldn't wake him up.

Hermione broke from the embrace and removed the glamor and chains, before once again joining the group-hug. Though the comfort felt wonderful, the pain in Harry's mouth had reached Cruciatus Curse level and he would be begging for a pain potion if he were able. Unfortunately, there was no paper nearby and he didn't know sign language.

He would have to change that soon, that was for sure. Though, as Ron said, he was sure that Hermione would be scouring book stores. And Harry was really good at learning things when he had an incentive (example: the dragon induced, ten-hour Summoning Charm learning spree.) Losing your voice and being told that learning something new was the only way to get it back was certainly a good incentive. Second to being mauled by a dragon, maybe, but still...

Plus, Harry learned things by sight the best. Sign language would certainly be easier than his attempt to learn French when he was ten. That certainly didn't go over well.

There was a loud crack, and without even looking, Harry knew that Kreacher had arrived.

"Does Master want a slice of steak-and-kidney pie."

_No. I can't exactly eat it._

Hermione broke out of the group hug yet again, and turned to Kreacher, once again being forced to tell the story she really didn't want to.

"Kreacher...there was an...incident. And Harry, he...his tongue was cut out."

Kreacher stood stock-still for a moment, then ran over to Harry, hugging him around the knees.

"Kreacher is sorry for Master Harry! But Kreacher knows what to do, oh yes, one of Kreacher's ancestors took care of a tongue-less wizard and she passed down the knowledge to Kreacher." He nodded firmly. "I will go and make Master Harry some soup!"

And with a crack, Kreacher was gone. Harry walked into the living room, sinking into a chair, and putting his head in his hands. He heard Ron and Hermione enter but didn't look up.

"We will help you, you know. Ron's right. I'm so sorry...if I had just been there sooner." Harry sat bolt upright, shaking his head violently. He reached over to a pen and notepad Hermione had left out earlier, and flipped to a clean page.

_"Don't. It's not your fault."_

"But...if I had just..."

_"No, Hermione. It was me who was careless, not you. And it was Umbridge who did this to me, not you."_

"Merlin. That woman...if I ever catch her." Hermione strangled the air and Harry had to smile slightly.

_"Hermione, can you get me a pain-relief potion, please?"_ The agony in his mouth had reached an unbearable pitch.

"Oh! Of course, sorry!"

Flustered, Hermione grabbed her bag and cast a quick _Accio,_ grabbing the pain relief potion and handing it to Harry.

He downed it in relief, feeling the pain that had been sweeping through every nerve ending cease. Still, he frowned. There was something off...oh. Right. He placed the vial on the table, staring at it.

Perhaps it was a small thing, compared to not being able to talk. But...not being able to taste anything...

"What's wrong?" asked Ron, seeing the look on Harry's face.

_"It's stupid, really. But, I can't taste the potion. Or anything anymore."_

Ron looked horrified by the very idea. Hermione put her hand on Harry's shoulder.

"It's not stupid Harry. None of this is _stupid_, you hear me? Anything that bothers you...anything that makes you upset...it's not stupid. And loosing your tongue and being upset because you can't taste anything is _definitely_ not stupid."

_"I just feel so..."_

"Scared? Lost? Angry at the pink toad?" asked Ron. Harry laughed slightly, a sound that made him wince a little. It was choked and gutteral, sounding nothing like the carefree laugh he'd once had.

_"I guess, Ron."_

Kreacher popped in with a bowl of soup, and two slices of steak-and-kidney pie. Harry picked up the soup and sipped it slightly, not really hungry. It was weird, feeling the liquid scald the roof of his mouth and not being able to taste it. It was rather depressing and, along with the sound of his laugh, seemed to drive his situation home. It would be like this for the rest of his life. Even if he beat Voldemort, he'd still be a freak, he'd still struggle with day-to-day life.

He'd still be the one everyone whispered about. Even Muggles.

Harry really wanted to hit something.

Hermione finished her pie quickly before setting her plate down and getting to her feet.

"Harry, mind if I borrow your cloak? I'm heading down to the bookstore for a book or two on sign language."

Harry shook his head, he didn't mind at all. It was, after all, the only way he'd be able to communicate without lugging around a pad of paper and pen everywhere and getting cramps in his hand from writing everything. The sooner they started learning BSL, the better.

Hermione strode from the room. A few minutes later, Harry heard the door open and close, and then the crack of apparation.

* * *

Hermione was still fuming at the toad, and shaken to the core about what had happened to her best friend. It wasn't just that he was mute, the sound of his strangled cries as the sadistic monster tortured him were still ringing in her ears. The cries, the way he laughed now, how he couldn't talk, or even taste anything...it broke her. Hurt her so, so badly to see him struggling and not be able to help him.

She apparated into a small alleyway behind a bookstore, pulled off the cloak, stepped onto the main street, and entered the bookstore.

Hermione always was good at finding what she needed in bookstores and libraries, and she quickly found a shelf with five different books on it, all about learning BSL in various difficulties. She grabbed them all, better to be overprepared than underprepared.

"Hermione?"

She turned around, startled.

"Elaina?"

"Hi!" her Muggle friend said with a grin. "Haven't seen you since last summer. Sign language, huh?"

"Yeah," Hermione replied. "One of my school friends had an accident that cost him his voice. I figured that I could help him learn sign language and learn it myself along the way."

"That's horrible! I'm sorry for your friend."

"I am too. I'm kind of scared for him, he's been very...closed off."

"When did it happen?"

"Last week," lied Hermione. It'd make more sense for her to be shopping for books the week after the 'accident' instead of the day of.

"He's probably still in shock. Maybe some form of PTSD." Elaina wanted to be a child psychologist. Hermione knew that her kind and caring friend, who's shoulder she had cried on more than once, would be spectacular at her job. A pity that Harry couldn't talk to her. Ah well, that's the price that came with being in hiding.

"He's also not really used to having people care about him, I think. He's an orphan, and his relatives were neglectful at best. He thinks that it was stupid for him to be upset about loosing his sense of taste."

"Taste?"

"It...was his tongue. I remember...I was there when it happened. It was awful, there was so much blood, and he was in so much pain, and I..."

"His tongue? Oh God, that's awful!"

"Tell me about it. I've just been wanting to scream, hit something. I know he has to. It's hard, really hard. We're the only ones there for him, me and Ron. The three of us are very close, the teachers actually let us leave school for a bit to be with Harry."

"Harry? Is that the 'cute boy' you were telling me about a few summers ago?"

"Elaina! Yes, it is...but he's got a girlfriend, Ginny. Well, sorta. He broke up with her after the accident, said he needed some time to think things through. I'm sure they'll get right back together."

"Maybe he just didn't want to hurt her feelings, and was looking for and excuse to break up. Wouldn't he want to be closer to her after becoming mute, have a shoulder to cry on?"

"That's Harry for you. He wouldn't want to feel like a burden, trust me, I've known him for a little over six years."

"Hmm...selfless, caring. Granted, a little bit of an inferiority complex, but still...Hermione, he'd be the perfect match for you! And hey, your the one helping him get through this now. Not Ginny. His name sounds familiar though...hmm...does he know Dudley Dursley by any chance?"

Hermione blinked.

"Er...when did you meet him?"

"Oh, him and his family moved in down the street. The two of us really hit it off, he's quite charming. He actually asked me out two weeks ago. I said yes, of course."

Hermione blinked in surprise. That was new. She's have to tell Harry about it.

"He's Harry's cousin, I think he was very...different when he was younger."

"Yeah, Dudley told me. He also said he was ashamed of those days, and something that happened two years ago completely changed him, opened his eyes. He said that his cousin saved his life, but didn't go into details. He always got this horrible look on his face, I stopped asking after awhile. But he wants to talk to Harry, apologize."

Hermione looked off into middle-distance, chewing her lip thoughtfully.

"When this whole thing is over, sure. Just, Elaina, please don't tell Dudley Harry's mute. If it gets to the wrong people...I can't tell you why, just know it'd be bad."

"What do you mean?"

"The 'accident' was a bit...sinister. Harry has quite a few enemies and if one of them knew Harry's mute...it wouldn't go over well."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't tell you. I really, really want to Elaina. But...it's crazy. It's crazy, and wonderful, and terrible, and just telling you about it would be breaking the law. Maybe one day. Just, please Elaina. Don't tell anyone. All of the awful stuff that's been going on, it's not just accidents or coincidences. And I'd hate to see you six feet under."

"Alright, I won't, if it's as dangerous as you say. But Hermione, when this is over, I need an explanation."

"Sure. But Elaina, if..." Hermione swallowed. "If I...die...ask Dudley. He can tell you."

"It's that serious! Hermione, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"A civil war, Elaina. A bloody, brutal, ugly, civil war."

"Hermione, you'd better live. If you don't, I shall raise you from the dead, yell at you for not kissing Harry before you died, slap you in the face, throw you under the mistletoe with Harry, watch you kiss, then kill you again!"

Hermione laughed slightly. "I'll keep that in mind Elaina."

She paid for her books and the two left the store, still chatting. Elaina had apparently decided that Harry was Hermione's 'perfect match' and no amount of denying it would convince her otherwise.

"Hermione, this Ginny girl sounds nice, but really doesn't seem like a match for Harry. She hasn't been through all of it with him. You're his best friend, and over the past few years I've set up quite a few best friends. Only one couple has broken up, and they got back together quick. Hermione, I can sniff out a good love story a mile away, even if I've never met one of the people involved. And I'm a pretty good matchmaker."

"Why not ditch the psychology stuff and become a match-maker than," Hermione countered, only half-joking.

"I'll just set up all my clients with their dream partner! I'll be the best psychologist around!"

"You're hopeless."

"And you're a blind idiot who can't see what's right in front of her."

"Point NOT taken."

"Very mature."

* * *

_"I was about to send out a search party!"_

Harry had shoved the piece of paper in Hermione's face the moment she stepped through the door. It was a painful reminder, yet downright hilarious at the same time. Harry stood there, very agitated, waving the piece of paper in the air like a flag, with one hand on his hip.

"Consisting of who? You and Ron? Kreacher would draw so attention from the Muggles, m'thinks. Nice to know you cared though."

Harry flipped the piece of paper over. He had already written a question on the back.

_"Well, what took you so long?"_

"Ran into an old friend and we got talking. Oh, and Harry? She's dating your cousin."

She said this casually as she was walking by Harry into the living room. Harry charged after her, grabbed a pen that had been lying on the table, and wrote one, very crucial, question.

_"WHAT?"_

* * *

**A/N: So a bit of Harmony...it's a pairing that's been growing on me, what can I say? She and Harry are made for each other, and I did think they'd get together until Half-Blood Prince. But this won't contain Weasley bashing like many Harmony stories, sorry! And it won't be the main focus of the story, not when poor Harry's mute and they're looking for Horcruxes!**

_**-Winged Quill**_


	3. Learning to Cope

**A/N: This chapter is kind of filler, just little 'one-shots' I guess, that shows interaction between the trio over the months where they aren't fighting battles or going after Horcruxes, showing Harry learning how to deal with muteness, and showing 'sparks' between Harry and Hermione. I may post more of these later, or make a seperate fic, but for now, I don't want to waste chapters and chapters of the same stuff. **

**DISCLAIMER: Fully disclaimed. I own nothing that you recognize as canon.**

* * *

No matter what he did, he just couldn't remember these damn hand signs! He was about two inches away from burning each and every last one of these books, throwing in the towel, and going to sleep for a month. He slammed his head against the table in frustration, groaning.

"Harry?"

Hermione stood in the doorway, frowning. She walked over to him and gently took his face in her hands, tilting it up to face her own. "What's wrong?"

Harry grabbed his notebook, which was sitting next to him on the table._ "I can't get these signs right!"_

Hermione tapped a finger against her chin, considering. Then she broke into a grin.

"Hey, have you ever heard of charades?"

Twenty minutes later...

"_Purple Cats that Live on Mars and Eat Carrots and Chocolate Bars While Playing the Flute?_ Harry, there is no _way_ that that's a book."

Harry held up a parchment, where he had already written his response.

_"Well, it was fun watching you try to guess it."_

"GET BACK HERE!"

* * *

Hermione woke to the sound of strangled cries across the hallway. She sighed in resignation and stood, casting a _Lumos_ as she did so. Her bare feet made no noise as she left the room and walked into Harry's room. She lifted her wand to cast light on the thrashing figure, and choked back a sob as she reached forward to shake him. This had been happening every night for the past two weeks. Ever since the Ministry. Harry would relive the torture Umbridge had put him through, Hermione would comfort him, and Ron would sleep through it all.

"Harry? Harry, come on, wake up."

He screamed again as he sat bolt upright, and upon seeing Hermione he started crying as he remembered the nightmare. She knew that he hated being weak, she knew that he would take this as a sign of weakness. Harry had always been the strongest person she knew, and it broke her heart to see him like this.

He moved his hands to form a single sign _"Scared."_

He didn't know that much sign language, Hermione had no doubt that he would explain himself more if he did. He was struggling to rely on paper as little as possible, instead using his hands (and occassionally wild gestures if he didn't know a sign) to express how he felt, or to take part in a conversation. All three of them had become rather adapt at charades.

"It's okay, you're here. Nothing can hurt you, you're safe. Shh..." It was almost like comforting a child, but Hermione learned that Harry was never in his right mind after a nightmare.

_"Promise?"_

"I promise."

He moved his hands in the sign for the letter 'K' before closing his eyes and snuggling back under the covers. Within minutes he was asleep. Hermione sighed and stood, staring down at her sleeping friend.

"I won't let anyone hurt you again. Ever. I promise you that."

And then she walked out.

* * *

Hermione and Harry had woken up earlier than normal, Hermione because she wanted to work on their list of possible Horcrux locations, Harry because he wanted to practice sign language. She felt a tap on her shoulder and she looked up to see Harry trying to get her attention.

_"Hungry."_

"You're hungry?" asked Hermione, startled at the bluntness Harry used. Granted he didn't know much sign, but his directness was rather rude, and she knew that he wasn't a rude person.

_"No,"_ he signed, before pointing at Hermione. _"Hungry."_

"Oh, you're asking me if I'm hungry?" He nodded.

"Yeah, a little," she said

_"K-elf (The sign he had invented for Kreacher) asleep. I'll cook."_

"Okay, thanks."

Harry walked over to the fridge and Hermione returned to her list. Was there possibly a Horcrux in Tom Riddle's old orphanage? She, Ron, and Harry would have to investigate the possibility. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, still deep in thought. Harry was adamant that there was a Horcrux at Hogwarts, but Hermione really didn't want to risk it.

The two worked in companiable silence, Harry laying strips of bacon on the frying pan, Hermione scribbling down yet another possible location, before Harry once again got her attention.

"Eh."

She looked up at Harry. "Yeah?"

_"Relax. Read a book."_

"I can't. I don't want to waste time."

_"Read a book."_

"Harry-"

_"Relax."_

"Harry-"

_"Re-"_

"HARRY, THE BACON IS BURNING!"

* * *

"Come on!"

_"No."_

"Ask her!"

_"No."_

"You know you like her."

_"FOR THE LAST TIME RON!"_ Harry capatalized each word, writing so furiously that he tore the parchment. _"I AM NOT ASKING HERMIONE OUT!"_

* * *

"He likes you!"

"No he doesn't."

"Does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

"Doesn't."

"Doesn't"

"Does."

"HA!"

"THAT DIDN'T COUNT!" yelled Hermione, throwing hexes at him.

"Okay, okay, it didn't. But I'm telling you, he likes you."

"NO HE DOESN'T!"

* * *

_"I hate silent casting,"_ Harry scribbled down in irratation, handing the scrap piece of paper to Hermione.

"I know, but would you rather be defenseless?" she asked wearily. "Let's try it again."

This time, Harry managed to keep the fire from his wordless _Incendio_ going for five minutes. Hermione was currently thanking Merlin that this hadn't happened in fifth year, when Harry was full of teenage angst and hadn't had the basics of silent casting taught to him yet. That would have just been a pure nightmare.

"Nice job. Now let's go for amount instead of time."

The two were in the basement of Number 12, Hermione refused to let Harry train anywhere else after the 'turtles and french poodles incident.' She had been picking pink fur off of her clothes for weeks, and she was still finding turtles in the cupboard.

Needless to say, the now mute boy-who-lived had been highly amused. His friends/housemates...not so much. Ron had chased Harry all over the house with the broom, and Hermione had hit him in the face with a well-timed _Aquamenti._

Back to the present, Harry was currently grinning now that he got to move on to the big flames. After Harry had singed off Hermione's eyebrows, she had made him practice with little ones, trying to keep them going for as long as possible.

Hermione ran and hid behind an old armchair that Harry had brought down for target practice, casting a Protego over herself for good measure.

Harry waved his wand, concentrating hard. And suddenly the room was filled with flames, radiating outwards from Harry, him standing in the middle of the inferno, holding the wand aloft with a triumphant grin on his face, none of the flames getting close enough to burn him.

Hermione smiled as Harry let the spell drop and the flames die. She was relieved that she had insisted on practicing in the basement, if she hadn't, Harry would have burned the house down.

"Okay, that was great! And I think I know what your problem is. Your power is very high, it's control you have trouble with."

Harry just gave her a look, one that said plain as day 'Way to state the obvious.'

She crossed her arms over her chest and mock-glared at him, before turning and heading up the stairs.

"Come on. I don't know about you, but I'm parched."

* * *

Harry glanced over at Hermione, who was deeply immersed in one of the several Sign Language books she had bought. He was cooking again because, despite the almost-burnt-bacon fiasco, he was the best cook besides Kreacher. He had, after all, had a lot of practice at the Dursley residance.

It was slightly annoying that he couldn't actually eat any of his finished products, and had to take his friends words for it that it was good. He almost laughed at the irony of it all. It had been a month and a half since he had his tongue had been torn out, and he was adapting to it pretty well.

At least, he thought so. So did Ron and Hermione. He knew though, that when he actually went out into the world, things would be different. Not very many people would have even the rudimentary grasp on sign language that the three did. Harry knew it would take years before he was fully fluent in it, but at least he was able to communicate to his friends without getting a hand cramp from writing everything out.

And Hermione was a godsend. She picked up on the language quickly (when does she not?) and was, even when he wasn't signing, usually able to interpret what he was saying. Ron was also good at sign language, and he studied it harder, Harry was sure, than anything he ever had before.

But it just wasn't the same somehow. Harry and Hermione had this deep bond, this understanding, that flowed between them. And in spite of himself, Harry felt himself falling for the bushy-haired bookworm. But that was useless, pointless, a dream that would never come true.

Who would want him? Ever?

* * *

Hermione walked into the room looking unusually satisfied. She had gone out, under the cloak, to scout a possible Horcrux location and returned looking like a cat that caught the canary.

"What's got you looking so happy?" asked Ron, and Harry gave her a puzzled look. She smirked evily, and the two boys shuddered. Harry could almost swear that Hermione had sprouted poisoness fangs.

"I managed to find where a certain pink toad lives," she said triumphantly. "Some Ministry workers were talking about it.

Harry froze. He didn't ever want to see that woman again. Still, the prospect of revenge was very tempting. What to do...

If this was a cartoon, a devil and an angel would appear on his shoulders. The conversation that followed would go something like this.

"Violence is not the answer."

"You're kidding me, right? The lady cut his freaking _tongue_ out, and you say that he shouldn't get some form of revenge?"

"Two wrongs don't make a right."

"Oh, you know what? Screw you!"

And with that, the devil would hit the angel over the head with a frying pan.

Harry had a...very strange imagination.

"Harry? Harry?"

_"Sorry."_

"You were staring off into space with a maniacal grin on your face. What are you planning?"

_"Paper. Pen."_

"Here."

Ron shoved the aforementioned objects into his hands. And with that, Harry Potter began to plot his great revenge.

* * *

**NEW SPECIES OF TOAD DISCOVERED IN FRONT OF LONDON ZOO**

_The head zookeeper of the London Zoo is used to caring for exotic animals. But, when he came across a huge, and very ugly, pink toad directly inside the gates, he was, needless to say, stunned._

_"It was like nothing I'd ever seen before," he said._

_The toad has been named the 'Toungeless Pink Toad' for now, the scientific name is still being decided. The toad was, as the name suggests, completely missing it's tongue. Scientests are baffled at this feature, believing it to be some sort of genetic mutation. _

_The toad had a collar around it's neck, and, according to the nametag, it was name 'Dolores' by the zoo. If anyone is missing a large tongueless pink toad, please call the London Zoo to claim it._

The trio was in stitches the day that newspaper came out. Their plan had worked perfectly.

* * *

Harry was bored. He had studied Sign Language, gone over possible Horcrux locations, and played charades too many times to count, and wanted to do something else. Plus, Ron kept pestering him to ask out Hermione.

_"Where would I take her?"_

"...ummm..."

_"Exactly."_

"Hey you two!" Harry turned around. Speak of the devil, it was Hermione. "Do you guys wanna play a game of-"

_If she says charades I'm sooo going to make use of that animal spell we used on Umbridge._

"-Truth or Dare? With some vertiaserum of course. What fun would it be otherwise?"

"Sure why not?"

_"Yes!"_

At last, something to alleviate the boredom!

After the trio drank the vertiaserum, Ron went first, asking Hermione the age-old question. She responded with 'truth.' Ron grinned evily.

"Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?"

"Snape. In first year."

"WHAT?"

Harry burst out laughing, Ron turned the color of parchment, and Hermione was currently as red as a tomato.

"It was before I knew what a complete and utter jerk he was, okay?" Harry continued rolling around on the floor as the two bickered.

"But still, it's Snape, of all people!"

"Would you rather I say Flitwick?"

"NO!"

"Um...Harry! Truth or dare?" asked Hermione, taking the attention off of herself and redirecting it to the messy-haired midget laughing at her misery. He choked back a laugh and made the hand sign for 'dare.'

Hermione grinned and ran into the kitchen. After much banging and clashing (and a small explosion, though she would later deny it) she returned with a glass of...something.

"I dare you to drink this!"

Harry smirked. For once, not having taste buds was an advantage. He chugged the liquid down easily and handed it back to Hermione, who was currently grinning like a maniac. He wondered why, and then he suddenly got the urge to go and light something on fire.

He cackled and ran out of the room. Ron gave Hermione a nervous look.

"Umm...Hermione? What was that?"

"Every kind of soda in the fridge, a 5-hour energy, coffee, and a Monster."

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" yelled Ron, his eyes going wide. He remembered the time his brothers had pranked Harry by slipping a 'Caffeine Candy' into his breakfast. One word: Chaos. "DO YOU KNOW HOW HE REACTS TO CAFFEINE?"

"...no?"

And that's when they heard the maniacal, if slightly choked, laughter.

"Crap."

"Harry, DROP THE LIGHTER!"

"Ah! No, Harry!"

"This is why we never give Harry caffeine!"

Needless to say, their Truth or Dare game had an early conclusion. And Hermione vowed to never give Harry caffiene again. EVER.

* * *

Knock, knock, knock.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron, who were just then in an intense argument over a subject that could decide the fate of the world, tensed. Kreacher popped into the room.

"The werewolf-man is at the door."

"Oh, Professor Lupin? Let he in please, Kreacher," said Hermione. Kreacher nodded and popped away. Harry fidgeted, backing away from the fridge, which had been the scource of their argument. Ron and Hermione were very determined to enforce the 'no caffiene for Harry' rule. He had just wanted a soda!

He wasn't sure how he'd be able to handle Lupin, especially since the last time he had been here, Harry had both been able to speak, and had said some rather nasty things.

"Hello? Are you three in here?" Lupin asked, walking around the corner.

"Professor!" said Hermione, waving.

"I haven't been your teacher in years, Hermione. You can call me Remus. Anyways, Harry," he began, "I...considered what you said to me last time. And...you're right. I was a coward, I was running away. And I feel awful for it. I'm sorry."

Harry took a deep breath. Here goes.

_"I'm sorry too."_

Remus's eyes widend. "Are you using...sign language?"

Harry nodded, keeping his eyes firmly affixed on the floor.

"What happened to you?"

He dosen't sign anything, or write anything. His eyes are wide and he's shaking. He hasn't thought about it in awhile. But that simple question 'what happened to you?' brought the memories rushing back.

Hermione comes to the rescue. She leads Remus, Harry, and Ron into the living room, and directs them to a couch. "Sit down. This is going to take awhile."

* * *

**A/N: Enter Remus Lupin! What exactly will he do when he finds out what happened to his best friend's son...find out next time! **

_**-Winged Quill**_


End file.
